


we're not out of the tunnel (i bet you there's an end)

by russets



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-10-31 21:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10908183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russets/pseuds/russets
Summary: Mac thinks they're doing pretty well.Which is why when the door bursts open at ten minutes to closing on a Thursday night whilst the gang is sitting about drinking before they start shutting down, Mac is justifiably pissed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> have a good one

If there's anything Mac hates, really, truly hates, it's how different versions of his self somehow manage to get stuck in certain places.

High school is Ronnie the Rat and he's accepted that that's just how things have to be. As soon as he walks near those bleachers he's sixteen and small again and everyone tolerates him with a disgusted acceptance. Rat. Tattle. Snitch.

Snitches get stitches, that's what they say, but Mac had figured that the extra money was worth the risk.

(Mac could feed Charlie enough weed to make him lay off the inhalants for a while with that money, could avoid the look his dad always gave him when he asked for a couple of dollars for the bus.)

The bar is Mac, loud and, in the end, proud. It's booze and comfortable shouting and Mac thinks that it's probably closest he gets to being _Mac_ , these days.

The place that used to be home, once, is gone, burned to the ground. It's a shame, he thinks, that he can't go back to there just once, just to capture one little bit of the love that filled his childhood.

There's a part of Mac that thinks maybe it's a good thing that the place is long since ashes, because there are some truths that he's never going to be strong enough to face, no matter how much of a badass he is.

(There's another part of Mac, smaller and quieter still, that thinks maybe every home he's ever had has burned down. A quick spark and then everything up in flames and then, well. Goodbye, Mac-and-Dennis'.)

Home now is a little different. It's the same four walls, but _Mac_ doesn't live here anymore. It's Mac, sometimes Ron, sometimes babe. Mac's done a little redecorating since what happened happened, has moved around the room layouts a little. The sunlight always was nicer in the mornings in his old room. The home gym is still around but Mac tends to avoid it, most days.

Home is also different because Jonathan, sometimes Jon also lives there. Jon uses the home gym, as if being a personal trainer wasn't enough exercise on its own, but Mac supposes that if you want to be that level of beefcake then you have to put the effort in.

Jon makes Mac dinner sometimes, has it ready for when he walks in the door after closing up Paddy's. The first time Mac fumbled in to see the apartment flooded with warm light and Jon sitting smiling up at him from the table, face lit bright by the candle in the centre, it hit him like a punch in the chest. He'd stammered his way through a thank you and a kiss before excusing himself to use the bathroom.

It had taken Mac about ten minutes to stop hyperventilating.

Mac's used to it now, though, used to these little acts of kindness, these quiet declarations of affection, although his breath does still catch in his throat every time.

Mac never thought that he'd have this. He thinks maybe this is all of his luck used up at once and that's why he feels so goddamn guilty.

Because Mac isn't in love with him.

He knows he damn well should be. Jonathan is near enough perfect, all chiseled jaw and rippling abs, and with a stunning smile to boot.

More than that, he's kind. He asks Mac about his day and listens to the answers like he cares with a soft grin on his face. He remembers little things that Mac likes, like his favourite type of cookie, and he'll buy them whenever they start running low, before Mac even notices.

Sometimes, Mac comes home to a little note left on the side, an _I love you_ scrawled over a jaunty smile and a little heart.

Those times are the worst.

Mac should love him. Mac has tried so, so hard to love him.

Mac knows what the problem is. Jonathan is kind and Jonathan is sweet and Jonathan is in love with him. Jonathan smiles at him across the pillow when they wake up in the morning. Jonathan kisses him gently before they go to sleep.

Jonathan is not Dennis.

That's why Mac hates the past hims that get stuck in places. If bits of him hadn't gotten stuck, then maybe he'd be able to love Jonathan. Maybe he'd be able to walk into the gym and not expect to see Dennis smirking at him from the bed.

Mac thinks maybe the him that got stuck in the apartment and was in love with Dennis died in that fire. Mac thinks maybe ghost him is angry, and now he's being haunted.

Mac thinks maybe that would explain why he still can't stop thinking about Dennis.

The problem is, he doesn't feel like _Mac_ anymore, not really. _Mac_ was big and bold and badass but he was also soft, sometimes, on the nights that Dennis was tired or strung out or just too empty to talk. _Mac_ was the only person who could get Dennis to eat after he'd been avoiding food for days and was ready to fall down where he stood.

_Mac_ was half of _Mac-and-Dennis_ and Mac doesn't really know how to be that version of himself anymore.

(At the beginning, Mac got a little lost in what ifs. What if he'd come out earlier? Could they have been Mac-and-Dennis in a different way? He learns to not think about it.)

Mac is trying, though. He goes to the gym and actually works out. He manages to kick a huge guy out of Paddy's one night, and the gang are suitably impressed. He even starts taking karate classes, and is honestly surprised when he turns out to be good at it.

Dee says he doing well.

Mac talks to Dee a lot, these days.

She'd found him in the bar one morning, passed out in the back office surrounded by empty bottles and broken glass and with blood on his hands. At some point in the night Mac had decided to give throwing bottles a go. It had always worked for Charlie, he figured, so it was probably worth a go.

It hadn't helped, of course, and Dee had actually looked worried, for a second, before Mac had stirred groggily awake and puked on the floor. She'd started screeching, then, and had forced Mac clean the whole room before she would let him have an aspirin.

That night though, Dee had hung around long after closing sat at the bar with a beer, watching as Mac checked all the doors a final time. Then Dee had taken his wrist in her bony hand, far gentler than Mac had thought her bird hands could be, and had tugged him along with her in her walk home.

Mac still isn't quite sure how Dee figured out that he couldn't face the apartment on his own, but he is grateful.

They've talked regularly ever since.

They both miss Dennis, more than Frank and Charlie. Mac has spent almost thirty years trapped in Dennis' orbit but Dee has spent a lifetime. It makes sense.

Dee is kinder to him, these days. Mac is kinder too. Sure, they still throw barbs at each other like little kids with rocks, but some of the sting is taken out of it now.

Every day that Mac notices how things have changed for the better now that Dennis is gone hurts a little bit more.

(Sometimes, late at night when Jonathan is asleep, Mac stares up at the ceiling and lets the guilt that he feels overwhelm him. Old habits always did die hard.)

They're all trying, though. Mac has noticed.

Dee has been softening around the edges, little by little, learning not to be quite so ready to strike out at the first hint of trouble. Her words are a lot less like knives, now.

Charlie has been huffing things less. It takes Mac a while to notice, but when he does he can't stop seeing it, how more often than not nowadays Charlie's eyes are clear.

When Mac had mentioned it, Charlie had gone quiet, suddenly shy with embarrassment, and Mac had pulled him into a hug like he used to do when they were little kids. Charlie had melted into it, soft and smelling slightly better than usual, and it was a long time before either of them had been able to bring themselves to let go.

Mac has been making an effort to hug Charlie more often ever since.

Frank is, well. Frank is Frank, and Mac is pretty sure that he's never going to change.

Things aren't normal, but they're making the best of it. Mac is making the best of it.

Mac's becoming a better person, slowly, he knows it. He's not unhappy. He just can't quite figure out how to stop loving Dennis.

Mac will someday, though. He doesn't have another option.

The dust is settling, and Mac thinks that all of them are trying to change themselves in the aftermath. Mac thinks they're doing pretty well.

Which is why when the door bursts open at ten minutes to closing on a Thursday night whilst the gang is sitting about drinking before they start shutting down, Mac is justifiably pissed.

"Heyoo! Did you miss me?"


	2. Chapter 2

Dee is the one who breaks the silence, and Mac would be surprised if it wasn't totally goddamn predictable.

"Dennis? What are you doing here?"

"Coming back to work, obviously," Dennis says as condescendingly as he can, which is a whole lot. Mac's familiar. He's pretty sure that Dennis got in most of his practice on him, over the years. "What the hell else would I be doing here?"

"Stopping by for a drink?" Dee suggests sarcastically, and Dennis completely ignores her. It's just like old times. Mac can't quite catch his breath.

"Jesus, this place is even more of a dump than I remember. Have we seriously lived like this for the past decade?" Dennis flicks a little piece of lint off the bar and brushes his hand off on his jeans in mock disgust.

In the corner of the room Mac notices that Charlie is struggling not to yell. It's not even been two minutes yet and Dennis is already stirring shit up. Charlie doesn't look like he's going to bite though, not yet.

Mac gets it. Dennis came back. He's allowed a grace period.

Not a long one, though.

"Clearly you guys have let it go to shit around here, because I'd never allow myself to work in this filth for a week, let alone a goddamn _decade_ ," Dennis says, his nose wrinkled.

Charlie's eye has started twitching, which is pretty funny, but if it goes on for too long it'll get stuck that way, that's what Mrs Kelly always said, that, and to always rip off the bandaid, and so Mac jumps in.

"It's still a bit sticky in here from the glue scheme, which failed kinda terribly, but Charlie's been doing a great job at getting that shit out," Mac says, and Charlie shoots him a happy thumbs up. "You should've seen it right after though, dude! Total mess! We had to burn Frank's shoes off the floor!"

"Which explains that, then, I assume?" Dennis says, gesturing at the two footprints charred into the floor in the middle of the room.

He still hasn't met Mac's eyes, which is a little strange, but everything about this day so far has been strange and turned out pretty good so he's willing to roll with it.

Mac nods, grinning, and Charlie pipes up excitedly, "We tried to charge people to see the place where a guy caught on fire out of nowhere, but it got pretty weird after a while so we had to shut it down."

"A spontaneous combustion scheme," Dennis muses. "Interesting. Almost certain to attract the freaks though. We should probably paint over it, sand it down, or some shit like that."

"No!" shouts Frank, shuffling over to crouch protectively over the burn mark. Mac rolls his eyes. "We need to honour the shoes. They were the finest that the dumpster behind the library had to offer."

"He threatened to kick Charlie out if he sanded the floor down," Dee explains, rolling her eyes. That's a thing that they've been doing recently, just the two of them. Mac kind of likes it. "And Mac and I can't be bothered to do it, and it's not worth the amount of beer we'd need to make Cricket fix it, so the burn marks stay."

"The burn marks stay," Dennis agrees.

There's something strange about him, Mac realises. He still holds himself with that stiff self-awareness that he always has done, but there's something different about the way he moves, a little softer, the tilt of his head a little less sharp.

It's funny, Mac thinks, that they'be always given Dee shit about being a bird when really Dennis has always been the most bird-like of the two.

"So," Dennis says, and there is is, that strange softness in the slight hesitation to his words. "What else is new? Frank's shoes being a fire hazard can't be the only thing that's changed since I've been gone, so lay it on me."

Mac glances over at the others. What's changed? Dennis has been gone almost two years. Everything has changed.

Clearly Mac isn't alone. Dee has gone still, her lips pursed thin, Charlie is scuffing at the floor with the toe of his shoe, and Frank has wandered off somewhere towards the back of the bar, but then that's just Frank. He's like that.

Dee takes the bullet for them. Mac would be grateful if he wasn't too busy feeling like a goddamn coward.

"These two idiots have started talking Frank into paying for the damage when they wreck my car, which is about goddamn time," Dee says with a victorious grin. "But Dennis, I'm going to be straight with you. It's been two years. A lot of shit has changed. You're just going to have to find out as you go."

Mac resists the urge to watch between his fingers. The Dennis he remembers leaving would be boiling over right about now, ready to explode into anger at not receiving a full and detailed report on every inch of their lives. The Dennis he remembers leaving would've been furious at Dee's challenge to his authority.

None of that happens, though.

This new, softer Dennis simply nods once and says, quiet, "That's fair. Two years is a long time."

It stirs up a memory from somewhere in Mac: Dennis, home from college the summer before his Junior year, the two of them kicking up grass in sone park as they passed a joint between them. The idea for the bar was first born on that day, in between stinging, dizzying breaths. Dennis was less intense, back then, less likely to fly off the handle at the first opportunity that came along.

("You'll have to wait for me to come home before you start trying to find a location. This is going to be _our_ bar."

"Of course I'll wait, Den, but I'm definitely going to be doing some scouting whilst you're gone. Gotta start now if we're going to have the awesomest bar in Philly."

"That's fair. Two years _is_ a long time.")

"Ok. Well," Dee says, a little flustered by the lack of argument. "As long as we're clear."

"Crystal," Dennis says with a grin. That takes Mac back, too, to too many times to remember, more than he can count.

"So now that that's out of the way," Charlie says, louder than he needs to. "How are you here? I thought you were going off to be a dad and shit forever?"

"Oh, now that is a long story, dude, but the short version is, for the moment I'm flying out to North Dakota to visit for a week every month," Dennis explains. "That's enough for me, and should be enough for the kid too. Besides, North Dakota blows, man."

"So are you here for good, then?" Mac asks, the question bursting out before he can stop it.

"Yeah, Mac, it looks that way," Dennis says, meeting Mac's eyes with a smile. Mac smiles back, helpless. "It definitely looks that way."

Mac can't bring himself to look away. He feels warmer inside than he has in a long, long time.

"Where're you staying?" Charlie asks, and Mac's warm feeling dies abruptly, with a squelch like the worst noise that's ever come from the yuck puddle.

"I, um. I assumed that I could just move back into the apartment," Dennis says, hesitantly.

"That could work," Mac's mouth says without his brain's permission. "You'll have to sleep on the couch for a few days until we can clear out the gym, but we can make it work."

"Oh, sweet," says Charlie, surprised. Dee takes advantage of the distraction to send Mac a sharp look. Mac shrugs helplessly.

"You can crash on my couch until then, if you want," Dee offers. "It actually folds out, so we won't have to listen to you bitching about how you've thrown out your back for the next week."

"Thanks, sis," Dennis says. "I'll just come with you when you're ready to leave."

Dee blinks in surprise. Mac is pretty sure he does the same. This is all so, so strange.

A agreeable Dennis is like a regular customer or a song by Charlie that doesn't mention spiders. It happens, sure, but the last time was so long ago that Mac can barely remember.

"Come on, we'll put your shit in the back office for now," Charlie says, hefting the largest of the bags onto his shoulder. "Oh! And also! I can show you the secret tunnel we've been digging into the cellar of the bar down the road."

"A tunnel? That's new," Dennis says, as he follows Charlie into the back room with the rest of his bags.

Once Dennis and Charlie are safely locked away, Dee rounds on Mac, eyes wild.

"Are you a goddamn idiot? What about Jonathan?"

"I know! I know!" Mac exclaims. Fuck, does he know. "But I couldn't just say no! It's _Dennis_."

"Yeah," Dee sighs, understanding. "It's goddamn Dennis. This is going to be a fucking travesty."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man i hope i got the voices close to ok in this but honestly your guess is probably better than mine at this point. 
> 
> more is on the way soon, so stay tuned

**Author's Note:**

> good god this is a can of worms i'm going to regret opening
> 
> title is from i will by mitski
> 
> (fun fact: i accidentally wrote kettle of worms first on my first try at that phrase and i feel like that belongs on charlie's dream book)


End file.
